The Tigress and the Boar
by SocialMoth
Summary: "Belt, do you think we could rest here for another day?" The sloth looked dubious; they both knew the gravity of their situation – they needed to make it to Tomorrow before it was too late, before the ground opened up and swallowed them whole.


**July 2014 **

**So I finally saw "The Croods" after avoiding it for the past year cos it seemed like yet another dumb/shallow CGI comedy (along the lines of "Madagascar/Penguins of", hashtag-unpopular opinion) and well I accidentally. I'm not a big fan of the slapstick/stuff that's too obviously played for laughs, but gorram it, the movie got under my skin. I could watch Guy and Eep being adorkable forever.**

**Which brings us here.**

**This came out of random planning for a series that I wanted to write of one-shots following Guy and Eep - this one ate up like seven of the ideas I originally wrote down. XD I don't know if the series will go on or what the next entry would be at this point. That said, this stands on it's own rather nicely, so here it is.  
**

**I am beyond**** excited**** to have a new world to play with. :D**

**Without further ado; enjoy!**

* * *

The shadow of the valley came welcome to him after what felt like an entire summer crossing the desert. Sighing in relief as the darkness washed over him, Guy slowed his pace so slightly, to linger. He placed a palm flat on the cool rock wall, inhaling deeply with closed eyes. If only he could drink the shade to soothe his parched throat as much as it calmed his skin. His tongue worried at the roof of his mouth, at the dream of water; only reminding him that he had not had one drop since he left the little pond this morning. Guy had managed to hustle an egg from a ramu at the height of the sun; that was the only other sustenance he'd had.

The sloth coiled around Guy's hips stirred, sun-warm fur tickling the bare skin of his waist as it raised its head. Belt gurgled a question, azure eyes overbright even in the deep shadow. Frowning sympathetically, Guy smoothed back the fur on the sloth's head. Belt had had as little water as Guy, but his small body certainly couldn't last as long without.

"We'll find water soon, Belt," Guy reassured in a hollow voice. His throat hurt when he spoke, dried out from the hot air and endless dust of the desert. Belt made a despondent sound, and wearily reset his hold around Guy's waist.

In the interval his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Craggy rocks and dead branches strew the packed dirt in the valley's shadow, along with the occasional animal bone. Guy spotted a crack of sunlight in the middle distance, too narrow and too bright to make out what lay beyond. Feeling his way through the cavern, steadied by his hand on the wall and carefully placing his feet, brought Guy to the other side.

The tunnel opened into a great canyon, even more stark and bare than the desert behind him. He only saw rocks, and more rocks. A couple of dead trees stretched from the highest parts of the canyon walls, at least a hundred Guys above him. His appearance startled a dozing pack of liyotes, but otherwise he and Belt were the only living things he could see. Canyons weren't safe, though; the walls could collapse and crush him. They needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Belt crooned from his hip as he quickened his pace. "It'll be okay," Guy said, "We'll be there soon." But as he drew closer to the other side of the gorge, his spine prickled. Something about this place was just _off_. His gait slowed again, almost to a stop. But he continued, attempting to settle his thumping heart with deep breaths. No need to be afraid, here...

At the far end of the valley, Guy encountered a humongous stone. It sat conspicuously beneath a rock shelf, resting against the wall beneath. Further inspection revealed it was actually wedged _into_ the wall, concealing a tunnel entrance. Guy threw his weight into the stone. He shifted some dirt beneath his heels and felt a lancing _pull_ inside his leg, but the rock itself didn't budge. Rubbing the back of his thigh to soothe the ache, he hobbled around to the front of the stone again, looking up. Handprints in red clay stretched across the shelf in order from the size of his face to barely larger than Belt's feet. Enough to make an entire family. Guy's shoulders slumped. A dead end, and one occupied by _cavemen_, at that.

Above the handprints, the cliff face rose straight up. He _could _scale it – he could just make out the shadows of barely-there handholds... if only he were hale and not exhausted from the day's travels. Frowning, Guy considered the cave entrance again. Experience taught him to expect caveys where he found caves, but maybe... _Maybe_ they were people like him. Did he dare take that chance, though, when it took everything in him to walk another step...?

A heavy rumble rattled his insides and his empty stomach cramped. He felt ill. Guy couldn't fight off cavemen in his condition; or any opposition, really.

"Let's keep looking; we'll find a way out of here," he told Belt. The sloth mumbled. Guy smoothed his fur again and turned back. The desert was no better than this place, but out there he still had a small chance of finding food. However, an alternate route opened to the side of the tunnel from whence he'd entered the gorge. Guy followed it, curiosity winning over survival for just a moment. He walked between close walls of rock blown smooth by wind-borne sand. He climbed over long-dead tumbled logs and dropped to sand so packed that landing sent an earthquake through his legs. The wind whistled around him as it flew through this narrow part of the canyon, a strange lonely-sounding music. Guy had the wild thought the song was for him.

This path led to another dead-end… though this cliff was shorter and looked friendlier to climbing. Guy tensed his arms, checking their fortitude. He knew how little lay back the way he came. _Up_ seemed the best way to go, now. _Get to high ground_.

"Belt – climbing formation, activate." He liked to say it; it really only involved his friend shifting so his head and body wouldn't get bashed into whatever Guy was climbing, should his foot slip from a toehold. A long blunt claw poked his rib chidingly. Guy laughed for the first time since the previous sun.

The wind had worn the rock frustratingly smooth indeed. But there were enough natural rivulets along the walls that Guy found plenty of handholds. The sun was just starting to lower in the sky when Guy finally hauled himself over the edge of the canyon wall, back and shoulders burning from the effort. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his belly as soon as he was away from the edge. Belt detached from his waist, and then Guy flopped on his back, gasping. "Do you see _anything_?" Guy asked between breaths. The sloth beckoned for a boost. Guy couldn't move anything above his waist, so he bent his knees into his chest. Belt hitched a ride on the bottom of Guy's shoes as he pushed his feet up, and made a show of scanning in all directions, claws held up to shield his eyes from the sun's glare. "Well?" The sloth at last pointed with a triumphant squeal. "Water?!" Belt nodded and Guy almost forgot to let his friend down carefully. Energy rushed back to his limbs as if the climb, the walk through the desert, had never happened. "Let's go, then!"

He journeyed in the direction Belt pointed him, the wind streaming around them strong enough at such a height to buffet him side to side. But as the sun dropped lower, Guy's steps grew less sure. He saw the water as soon as he began, for certain, but no matter how far he walked it never seemed to get any closer.

"It's a false-water," he realized out loud, his last hopes crashing down at his feet. "Belt, you… We've only been chasing a _false-water_!" _Why didn't he realize sooner?! _Belt detected his anger or noticed his hand rising before Guy was aware of it; either way he dropped from his waist and scurried away faster than any sloth had right to do. Groaning, dizzy now from dehydration and hunger, Guy sat hard on the ground, palms digging into his eyes. He felt Belt's large eyes on him, but he needed to calm down before he could meet his friend's gaze. They had been led astray by false-waters many times in the desert. By now, Belt was very good at discerning them from true freshes. But the poor creature was as desperate for a miracle as Guy was – and even Guy himself could no longer find the ideas that always came so easily to him. His thoughts felt like they were burbling up from the depths of a mud flat. Nobody could blame Belt for his mistake.

Heaving a sigh, Guy dropped his head. Belt still perched on a little rock several feet away, concerned azure eyes glowing in the last rays of sun. "I'm sorry, Belt. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you." Guy swallowed with great effort, feeling like there were cactus needles lining his throat. His voice felt too thick to speak with. "It's not your fault." Reassured, Belt shuffled closer. Guy welcomed him back with outstretched arms. As one they looked back over Guy's shoulder, to the fading sun. "_Follow the sun_," Guy murmured. The last words his parents had said; it was so long ago now that he could almost block out the picture in his mind of his family being swallowed by black ooze, and only hear the calm in his mother's voice and take courage from the resolve in his father's eyes.

Belt dragged the back of his claws across Guy's chin. He had wandered too far away in his mind again. The sloth had a bit of kindling in his other paw. Guy nodded. "We should find a place to rest for the night."

It didn't take long for them to find a flat space nestled in rough-hewn half-circle of monolithic stones and a collapsed tree, which would block most of the wind. Guy struck the flint stone and swept the spark onto a bundle of wood retrieved from the dead tree. It crackled and burned merrily, its warmth lending small comfort. Guy watched it in a daze. His thoughts bled together muddily and he was losing track of time. He'd open his eyes without certainty of whether he'd slept or not. Belt wasn't doing any better, so far as he could tell.

"Belt," Guy rasped quietly; his tongue felt as rough and heavy as the stones around him, "if I die, you can have the fire." The sloth uttered a disapproving sound. Guy didn't have the energy to chuckle and reassure him. He laid down instead, curling his knees in and reluctantly closing his eyes. Belt would wake him. Of course he would…

–

He woke up drenched and cold. Before he opened his eyes he felt it dribbling down his face, how it had soaked his hair and clothes. _Fever… No, __not now__!_ he thought in panic, forcing his eyes open and pushing himself up – to find he actually sat in at least two fingers of water. Gurgling happily and sopping wet, Belt danced up to him bearing a cupped leaf, presenting it with a bright _ta-da!_ Water… Guy took the leaf and drained it, the cool liquid reviving him. It had _rained_! Guy shouted exuberantly, rolling onto all fours to slurp water off the ground. Each mouthful tasted better than the last, sweeter than any fruit in the jungle; he felt his energy pulse back into his limbs, his head clearing until he could feel his _ideas_ again.

He drank until his belly ached before he flopped on his back again, grinning broadly. His pants would itch horribly until they dried out, and his hair. He didn't care. For now, he was _alive_. The sloth appeared above him; his fur even seemed brighter for a sip of water. "We just need to find a little food now, buddy," Guy said cheerfully, reaching up to pat Belt's head. "You stink like wet crocopup, you know that?" Belt flicked a pawful of water in his face for that, then made a _wait here_ gesture and disappeared from Guy's line of sight. When he finally sat up again, the sloth was nowhere to be seen. Guy was only worried for the sake that Belt was tiny, but… Ah; he had taken the knife with him. Guy smiled.

The sun was almost at its highest when Belt returned, several edible roots clutched in his long arms. Guy's stomach rumbled thunderously at the sight. Grinning so his sharp teeth showed, Belt darted away to prepare the roots as only he knew how. The meal could not have come soon enough; Guy devoured his portion of the root paste almost in the moment Belt handed it to him. To be fair, the sloth's voracity matched his own: both of them went back for seconds, within seconds.

"I had no idea food could taste this good," Guy relished, licking a bit of crushed root off his finger. Belt nodded and chirruped in agreement, no more elegant in his dining manners. When the root mash was gone, boy and sloth alike stretched out and lay back under the sun, the rock having drained and dried and grown warm as the day wore on. A full belly did wonders to lift the spirits, and soon enough they were exploring their rocky perch, scouting ahead to Tomorrow. The mountain burst from the horizon, so close now that Guy reached for it. His fingers wrapped around empty air.

A vast ocean of jungle lay immediately below them. They remembered all too well what lived in jungles from early in their journey – and how many of those creatures would gladly feast on a Guy, with a Belt for dessert. The two of them exchanged wary glances. The dark stripes stained on Guy's skin worked in shadows, but only so long as he remained upwind. As soon as anything caught his scent...

If Guy couldn't be a person, then he needed to be an animal.

"Wanna go catch dinner?"

–

Belt turned the meat over a large fire while Guy cleaned the skin. The boar had been old, turning silvery-blue from the brownish mauve of youth. It had put up a good fight in the trap; Guy had made its death quick.

Getting the brain out of the skull had been the worst part. A shallow pool left from the rain had served to scrub the fat and flesh from the skull and inside of the skin. The process left Guy exhausted and reeking of blood, but now he was on the way to having a disguise not unlike the puppets he and Belt made for their traps. They would be on the road again only too soon. The Listening Shells had been silent so far – maybe they had one more day before this canyon disappeared into the lava…

In still silence, Guy watched the boar's meat cook, fat dripping off the flanks and landing with pops and hisses on the fire beneath it. Belt looked back at him, expression sobering. He emitted a questioning sound. Guy shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking." He looked down at the skin in his lap, no longer life-warm. The smell of blood stung his nose. "I'll be back."

The water turned murky as Guy scrubbed his skin. Away the blood went from his arms and chest, and with it the stench of the warthog's death. If they were lucky, enough of its living scent remained on the skin that they could pass through the jungle unaccosted. And hopefully they would make it to Tomorrow before the skin rotted off the skull…

When Guy returned, Belt had already carved off pieces of a flank. They would have food for the next sun at least, Guy concluded as he chewed on a strip of meat.

"Belt, do you think we could rest here for another day?" The sloth looked dubious; they both knew the gravity of their situation – they needed to make it to Tomorrow before it was too late, before the ground opened up and swallowed them whole. But the previous leg of the journey had burnt them both out. Almost literally. Just one day… that was all. That was what they had. Belt nodded. The Listening Shells gave them that much time. They would leave at the next sunrise.

The sun crossed overhead. Belt kept at the fire, to dry out the rest of the meat for carrying with them. It was a careful process, and one that Guy had learned to leave solely to Belt.

Guy wandered toward the sunrise-end of the canyon again. He walked along the cliff face, more confident in his gait now that he'd slept, drank and eaten his fill. He looked ahead to the mountain, the one whose silhouette he'd been following for weeks now. The peaks still held a glow of light, the sun's last brush on the world. The sky above him grew darker and darker, the horizon behind him sprayed with reds and oranges and deep pinks as today's sun sank to join the suns that had come before it. Guy found himself already in shadow, golden rays streaming above his head. He stretched his arm up, fingers curling around a last glimmer of warm light before it flew beyond his grasp.

He continued forward, the winds rushing around him and stopping up his ears from all other sound. Guy reached the far end of the gorge, above the cave he'd found earlier. He peered over the stony edge to the other side, to a sheer drop to the jungle below. That would be no easy descent... He thought he would rather chance the caveys, if he could travel under the canyon wall instead...

Looking up again, he balked at how dark the sky had become. But the darker outline of the mountain still loomed visibly, an imposing shadow on the edge of the world. Guy reached behind him, and drew out his signalling shell. Taking a deep breath, he blew into it, sending a stuttering call over the cliff to the jungle, the plains beyond, and the dunes and ocean beyond that. Part of him hoped his call reached past the mountain, all the way to Tomorrow and maybe even further...

Guy had left his family in a tar pit many summers ago. He had already known that anything – any_one_ – who plunged into tar never made it back out. But he had _tried _– he'd pulled down vines and reached out with tree branches that were too short or too weak. The tar snuffed out his sister's wails and he fell to his knees shaking and crying.

Then Mama's shell sang low in his ear. Father's, too. So quiet that Guy had to stop crying to hear them. Tears fell gently down her face but her eyes held no fear. They were both right there. They would always be right _there._ Before he realized it, Guy was sounding his shell, too. He was there with them, and he was okay. The tar took away Mama and Father's breath, and their song ended.

Guy carried his father's knife. He wore a piece of his mother's tunic; and the strip of hide his sister had used to tie up her hair, in just the manner she had. In some way, Guy believed, that meant they all were still with him – still alive, somehow. Maybe they were even waiting for him in Tomorrow...

It was a silly idea. But he blew into his shell as hard as he could for that one important call – just to let them know where he was, that he remembered them, that he was coming. Wherever his family had gone – with him, to Tomorrow, or the bottom of the ground – maybe they could still hear him...

The evening quickened. Guy turned with the strengthening breeze and walked in the headwind toward the glow of the fire. Belt greeted Guy with a wave, flourishing at the boar meat he had already smoked in Guy's absence. Another portion was over the fire, from a foreleg by the look of it. Guy gnawed on a strip of smoked meat for the sake of something to do while the world blackened around them. His thoughts lingered on his family sinking into ooze the color of night for longer than he liked. He curled up by the fire with a deep weariness permeating through his bones. Belt rested silently at his head, threading his blunt claws through Guy's hair as though he _knew_: Guy's mother used to do exactly that – he had never told Belt about it. Sometimes, though, his sloth companion just _did_ things that made Guy wonder if Belt could tell what he was thinking. He tried thinking about what he might call Belt's ability, instead.

With the rhythmic play of Belt's claws through his unkempt hair, Guy soon fell asleep.

–

He woke with his back to the fire. The sky still hung dark above him, but he could see the very beginnings of the new day – a new sun – at the foot of the mountain. Belt was a warm, fuzzy red ball against his belly. Azure eyes were luminescent in the shrunken firelight; he had woken up when Guy had. The realization sent a shiver down his spine. "What do you think, Belt?" The sloth stretched a long arm out, pointing at the warthog skin. Guy nodded. It was time to move on.

They broke their fast on the first batch of smoked meat, and packed the rest away for later. Guy hefted the warthog skin over his head and picked up the last remnants of their fire. The boar's skull felt heavy on his head, and his neck soon ached along with his shoulders as he made his descent into the canyon. He had made the nose to see out of, but the sights were long and swooped; though larger than his own eyes, the nostrils made for limited eyeholes. That made the descent treacherous, yet Belt proved a capable guide. Once at the bottom Guy took the torch from Belt and held it aloft, watching the shadow of the boar's tusks loom up the rock walls. By all appearances he was the very beast itself; bear owls would think twice before trying to pick him off now, surely...

...There was a bear owl in the canyon, in fact! It scratched at the stone blocking the cave entrance, prowling the sand before it. But it turned and held at the approach of Guy's fire. With a wary squall the bear owl lumbered back as Guy drew closer and brandished the flame. Step by step the bear owl retreated, before letting out a final angry roar and loping away.

The danger gone, Guy cast the light around the perimeter of the cave door. If there was enough space at a point between the rock and the entrance, maybe he could squeeze through. That would mean leaving the warthog skin behind, though, and Guy had spent too much energy cleaning it to abandon the idea now. There were no cracks large enough anyway; and it was hard to see through the cracks, but Guy concluded soon enough it was prudent to find another route – perhaps descending the cliff down to the jungle was the only way to continue his journey after all...

Something moved inside the cave. A shadow. Not from his flickering firelight, but a shadow with a hunched shape. Guy started and scampered away, making way for the far end of the canyon. The caveys hadn't abandoned their cave – they had been there the whole time!

If they even _were_ caveys, Belt seemed to say with an exasperated sigh. It was hard to tell the difference in the dark; Guy was over-cautious. Guy paused, about to scale the wall. His mask's shadow spread high, tusks bold and menacing. Perhaps he could confuse them long enough to scope out what he was dealing with.

A rock clattered above Guy's head, at the head of the shadow. He had been followed...! Any plan of negotiating flew out of his head and he hurried up the wall in record time. Whoever – whatever – lived in that cave was in pursuit. _And not afraid of his fire?!_ It had worked to scare away caveys every time in the past...

Guy planted the torch to lure it, and scrambled to hide in the nook beneath the fallen tree. In the pre-dawn light, everything outside the fire's glow looked the same color; maybe he would not be seen...

All too soon he heard the sound of bare feet padding over stone. Padding aimlessly, but coming closer. Heavy breaths from exertion, followed by gasps of wonder. Guy turned up from his crouch to see who – what – was fearless enough to pursue him.

Embers swirled in the air. She was close enough to the fire for Guy to see her plainly. Though the boar's tunneling nostrils obscured specifics, she definitely had a human shape, and she was clearly entranced with the flames. She swayed from side to side as the fire guttered in the wind, almost as if they were dancing together. Guy rose to his feet, slipping quietly over the ground toward her. All of her attention was on the fire, giving him every chance to sneak up on her while he reached for his knife...

Quick as a sandsnake she whirled with a savage growl, grabbing Guy's arm and throwing him to the ground. Shocked out of words, Guy scrambled back, alarmed by her strength. She hefted a stone the size of his head like lifting a feather – and even the dim sights of the warthog could tell she fully intended for that stone to _bash_ Guy's head in.

Too frightened to even yell, Guy threw up his trembling hands in a fervent plea. His exposed and very human hands, so like hers, gave her pause.

_That's right..._ No one had ever come up with a _disguise_ like Guy had. To her, he was an adult male warthog, fully tusked and dangerous... with human hands.

After several long, tremulous seconds, Guy grasped his mask by the tusks and lifted. He heard her snarl threateningly and hesitated. And then Guy pushed the pelt away all at once and he finally saw her properly. He wanted to apologize for scaring her, but his tongue could not wrap around the words; all he could manage was a friendly smile.

She saw him properly now, too, of course. And in her surprise, she dropped the rock on his foot.

–

Her name was Eep. She had red hair and grass-colored eyes. (Green grass, like near a river or something; not yellow like on the plains.) She wore a tiger-skin dress and thought Guy's fire was the sun. And she couldn't come with him.

Guy left her a shell. He had no time to argue and she didn't look able to explain. Whatever she did with what he told her was on her shoulders now. Guy turned and never looked back, knowing now he had only until the sun came up – if even that long – to get away from here. Belt thought Guy should have pulled Eep along anyway; she couldn't possibly understand how serious the situation was on such short notice, it was only natural for her to hesitate. Guy privately agreed. But it was too late to backtrack for her, now. The most he could do was hope that she heeded his words and got herself out of that canyon.

The first earthquake hit when he reached the jungle floor.

He backed away from the cliff to avoid the jostled rocks tumbling down. Wordlessly he lifted the boar mask to look up, toward her cave and where they'd met by his fire; for all he knew, Tiger-girl was still on the other side. Or not anymore. Anything that fell through cracks in the earth...

The ground moaned.

And then he _ran_.

* * *

**A few things:**

**1) Ramu (ram/emu) is from the Croods wiki. (Why is a sharkodile in the "Croodaceous Creatures" featurette, but not that one?)**

**2) The "Belt's Cave Journal" featurette was a great reference for Guy's stream-of-consciousness and I'm rather disappointed that I didn't incorporate that as much as I wanted. Maybe next time?  
**

**3) I fully blame recently being in Shakespeare's "The Tempest" for referring to freshwater bodies as simply "freshes." (Caliban has a line, "And [Trinculo] shall drink naught but brine, for I'll not show him where the quick freshes are." No, I did not play Caliban, I just have a penchant for memorizing lines that aren't mine.) I dunno, for the sake of altering vocabulary where I could get away with it, it seemed to fit.**

**4) Ugh, I agonized over Guy's motivations for going to the tunnel entrance again _forEVER._ Not sure if what I settled on works or not. I hope it works well enough. I'm just really proud of myself for giving him a reason to use his shell at the beginning of the movie that also generates bonus feels okay guys.  
**

**This was great fun to write. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Take care!**


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